Monday, 29 July 2013

Resorting to Science

google image

I usually don't have to find ways to get my husband to agree to my whims but sometimes he digs in his heels.  After several near misses over time, I finally slipped on the shower gel foam and fell last week, falling across the sharp edge of the shower frame, having bumped the door open as I fell. I have a long knife-edge-shaped bruise on my rear-end to prove it. Hubby was cleaning his teeth at the time and was entirely unfazed, not missing a beat as he half turned and disinterestedly asked, "what happened to you?" (I was back on my feet by then.) I thought I had a good idea and asked if we could get a plastic non-slip mat with suckers underneath for the shower - I would cut a hole where the water was to go down the plughole and it would be attractively transparent with perhaps little decals of colourful fish inside. Hubby was against this: rather, he said, he would make me a slatted, waterproofed, wooden mat. This would be much better in his opinion. My heart sank - everything he makes is so sturdy and heavy, always designed to last: witness a couple of coffee tables he has made which I can't move and which therefore have collected dust bunny feet under their legs.  Besides, he never finds himself in danger of slipping in the shower, so can't see why I have a problem. I have pointed out with my tenuous grasp of the laws of physics that this must be a function of gravity and suction - he is much heavier than I am and therefore more attached to the ground.  I have backed up this argument by pointing out that if I step backwards, not noticing him standing behind me in the kitchen, he doesn't move whereas I rebound a foot or so forward. Am I right? Or is there such a thing as non-slip shower gel?

Friday, 26 July 2013

Buttering up

Google image

There are ways and means of doing/saying things which elicit various reactions in one's beloved life partner, depending on how carefully one has chosen one's words/actions. To this end, before I confess to my husband about that latest tiny dent in my car I am spending this week being particularly nice to him and doing things which I know he has appreciated.  To date, it being Friday, I have cooked several of his favorite meals, I have finally tackled and successfully removed the black mold high up on the bathroom walls, I have washed my car, made sure his favorite shirt and matching socks were available for an important meeting, and I have been particularly pleasant and sympathetic re his health and work woes. I did show the tiny dent to big son, who after a sharp intake of breath said: "But it's a sharp one, mommy" which apparently means, it may be small - but its nasty. I hasten to mention that I am not in the least afraid of my husband's reaction, it's just that there have been such a series of things lately....  Still, I would like to sweeten the pill as much as possible, remembering that I do have two useful weapons in my armory: the first is that I could remind him of the time that we borrowed my brother's car to holiday in the UK and on the way up to Scotland, hubby was so excited to see a large ferry from Ireland about to dock in a seaside town, that he drove too quickly up to the harbor wall and dented the (albeit old) Merc's bumper. My brother was very gracious about it.  Secondly, hubby has never tired of saying to visiting friends to whom he has often lent our cars when they worried about possible accidents, "People are more important than things," (incidentally quoting his mother). That should do the trick. I'll let you know how he reacts.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

More Serious Cases of Dropsy/Whoopsy

Google image
I thought we were over the accidentally-breaking-things epidemic for a while but we've been busy bees lately and some more of our possessions have come under the hammer (so to speak).  We were working at our other house last week-end, hubby was putting in a gas hob so that we can have an alternate source of power during possible electricity shortages. We have not yet afforded to put a decent granite worktop in that kitchen, and just have a temporary (loose) hardboard across the top of the bottom cupboards. As hubby had done this work himself, he knew he could just shove this item sideways in order to have more space to remove the previous glass-top hob. I heard an ominous crash: it seems hubby had forgotten to screw the crockery-filled end cupboard into the wall and it had toppled over, breaking six of my favourite pudding bowls in its descent. A few hard and incredulous comments escaped me, before I buttoned my lip, knowing that his riposte would be as always, "I'm sure I did it on purpose!"  The next day, we returned home, in time to see a large crack in the recently-fixed rear bumper of small son's car. He had been to sleep at big son's house while they were on holiday and had to leave for work in the dark one morning, forgetting that big son's driveway has a kink in it to avoid an unfortunately positioned lamppost on the pavement. I was about to remonstrate with small son and then remembered.....last week, I had doped myself up with cold and flu medications, feeling very groggy and had (perhaps dopily?) reversed my car into my garage - with the hatchback open, having just returned from the shops and emptied the trunk. I heard an ominous crunch and jumped out to find a small dent in my car and the bottom beading and first wooden plank almost ripped off the garage door. I've done my best to hammer and glue these back into place - just waiting for hubby to notice one of these days. Until then, I'll button my lip. When he does find out, I'll just say, "I'm sure I did it on purpose!"

Thursday, 11 July 2013

Coming Home

When you get home safely after a holiday, there's always a week or so of adjustment. Mixed feelings: great to be home, but sorry the hol. is over. Never mind, look forward to the next one.  Relief: back in our own deliciously soft bed. Anxiety: rush around to water my expiring indoor plants that small son forgot about. Loads of washing (small son saved his for me as well.) Relief: the house didn't burn down or suffer another flood from sub-standard plumbing like last time. A general feeling of well-being (for me), gloom for my husband (back to the stresses of work). Reflection: it was great to be up in Johannesburg and see friends I haven't bumped into for 35 years when we used to share a communal house together. It was great to attend my brother-in-law's 70th birthday but sad to have to attend a funeral - the oldest family member of our generation: uncomfortable feelings of our own mortality. Still, it was a wonderful funeral, about 100 people and wonderful eats enough for 200.  That's what's nice about living and working in the same community all your life: everyone comes and everyone remembers you. Such nice things get said.  Made me wonder what my own will be like one day as I've moved about a lot. Will someone send out word on Facebook or Twitter? Will memories be jogged in far corners of the globe and messages be texted? I'd love to be a fly on the wall. Better not.